


Just Married.

by captnalbatr0ss



Series: The Captain and his Quartermaster [12]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 06:25:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7628554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captnalbatr0ss/pseuds/captnalbatr0ss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam takes Rafe on a trip to Cartagena. Stopping at a local church to ask for directions takes a turn Rafe didn't expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Married.

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive any mistakes in the Spanish—I'm only as good as Google Translate allows.
> 
> For a Tumblr sentence prompt — “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…”

* * *

“This is getting ridiculous. I thought you said you knew where you were going, Sam.”

“I do—I mean, I did. I mean, I  _did_  think that I did.” 

“When you insisted we take a vacation, I thought it was so we could relax.” Rafe raised a brow, glancing at Sam over the top of his aviators. 

“It is. And we will. Babe, trust me. C’mon. You want me to get that?” Sam held out a hand, offering to take Rafe’s luggage.

“No. Thanks.”

Rafe fell in step beside Sam, taking in the scenery. He’d never been to this part of Columbia, and he had to admit that Sam was right—it was breathtaking. On this particular day, the sky was a brilliant blue and the sun was bright, and, despite not knowing exactly where they were headed, Rafe was indeed beginning to relax. Sam threw an arm around his shoulders, tugging Rafe in to press a quick kiss to his hair, and the smaller man grinned.

“Hey.” Sam glanced across the street, spotting a church on the opposite corner. “I bet somebody in there’ll give us directions to the hotel.”

Rafe slowed his pace as they approached, eyes scanning the building. It was quite lovely, with intricate details, columns, and two old wooden doors at the center. He watched as Sam pulled one open and disappeared inside. Rafe took off his sunglasses, hooked them on his shirt, and followed Sam.

The inside was even more beautiful than the outside. Four rows of pews, sixteen pews deep, and the light that came in through the stained glass windows on the second story was soft, muted. It was quiet, the air heavy with a hushed sort of reverence. 

At first Rafe thought the place was empty, but then he saw Sam, saw the man Sam was approaching.

He heard Sam begin to speak, and he smiled wider. He loved listening to Sam speak Spanish. Rafe still didn’t know the language, only a few words here and there, and as such, he had no idea what Sam was saying, but he watched the taller man as he spoke, and saw when he gestured to Rafe.

The other man—a priest of some sort, Rafe assumed—was nodding, smiling, and when Sam turned, waving Rafe over, Rafe obliged.

He heard his name— _“Este es mi novio, Rafe.”_ —understood that Sam was introducing him.

Rafe smiled politely, said, “Hola,” and hated how awkward it sounded.

But the priest returned the greeting with a friendly demeanor.

“Esperamos que usted pueda darnos direcciones. Nos estamos quedando en el Casa Canabal ¿Lo sabes?”

Out of everything Sam said, all Rafe picked up on was ‘directions’ and ‘Casa Canabal’, and when the priest replied, he spoke so fast Rafe didn’t even bother tuning in. Instead, he leaned into Sam when Sam reached for him, and he let his eyes roam, appreciating all of the fine details, intricacies of the sanctuary.

Sam had been wanting to take Rafe to Cartagena for awhile now, Rafe knew it was important to him, sensed it was something that Sam very much wanted to share with him. He supposed he understood, theoretically, where Sam was coming from, although Rafe couldn’t think of a single spot—not a city, not a state—that bore any real significance for him. Nowhere he could take Sam to in return. 

Rafe didn’t have anything like that to share; in fact he sometimes felt he had so little to offer that he was surprised Sam could love him so much. But Rafe had finally come to understand that he did—had finally reached a place of real trust. That space inside himself that he’d emptied, kept empty for so long, Sam had fought hard for his place there, had fought and won and filled Rafe up with a sort of unfamiliar satisfaction, contentment, and it was a feeling he still didn’t fully understand. 

But he was happy. And though he was pragmatic, Sam had eventually convinced him that it was okay to not question that happiness.

A soft squeeze on his arm brought Rafe back from his thoughts, and he lifted his eyes to Sam’s, a silent question.

“Well?” Sam cocked his head, that trademark grin forming on his lips.

“What?” Rafe furrowed his brow. “I’m sorry. I was just—thinking.”

Sam’s eyes softened, and the overt and unapologetic affection on Sam’s face as he watched Rafe almost made Rafe blush.

Almost.

“Sam. Did you ask me something? Before?”

“Mm?” Sam blinked a little, and that easy grin broadened. “Oh. No, ah, he did.”

Rafe regarded Sam skeptically, but still flashed an apologetic smile at the priest.

“Sorry, I…” Rafe was shaking his head.

Sam leaned closer to the priest, his voice low and his words fast as he explained that Rafe didn’t speak the language. At least, that’s what Rafe assumed Sam was saying.

There was a short but relatively awkward back and forth in which the priest spoke to Rafe, with Sam translating and Rafe offering short, mostly single word answers.

_No.  
_

_Yes, but not Cartagena.  
_

_Yes.  
_

_Yes.  
_

_I do._

As Rafe answered the last question, he felt Sam take both of his hands, and he turned to Sam just in time to meet his lips as Sam kissed him softly, tenderly.

Rafe almost pulled away, keenly aware they were still standing directly in front of the priest, but the way Sam held his hands and the sweet sincerity of his kiss held Rafe in place.

When Sam finally broke their kiss, Rafe came back to his senses, remembered that they did still have an audience, as it were, and this time he did blush. But Sam spoke a few words to the priest, and he nodded. The priest shook Sam’s hand, and then Rafe’s, and went back to doing whatever he’d been doing before Sam had asked him for directions.

“Hey,” Sam said, his hand moving to Rafe’s shoulder, sliding up to the side of his neck.

Rafe’s eyes closed at Sam’s touch, and he sighed.

“So he did give you directions, right? Because I didn’t catch any of that.”

Sam feigned surprise. “Wait—you didn’t? None of it?”

Rafe chuckled at the expression on Sam’s face. “You know I didn’t.”

“Mm. Well. This is awkward…” Sam dropped his gaze, rubbing the nape of his neck.

Rafe raised both brows, still grinning. “What is?”

Sam offered a short, nervous laugh. “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…”

Rafe’s laugh was immediate, a sharp and solitary, “Ha!” that echoed in the empty church.

But Sam wasn’t laughing, he just looked sheepish, and Rafe felt something coil low in his belly, but he wasn’t sure if it was anxiety or hope.

“Sam.” The smile fell from his face as he looked up at Sam expectantly, holding his breath. “…Sam?”

“Okay, I’m mostly kidding. But kinda not…kidding…”

“What? What are you saying, Sam?”

Sam bit his lip, taking Rafe’s hands in his own again, tangling their fingers. 

“Okay. So. The—uh…the joke is, I…was never lost. And I’ve been here before, just—years ago. Actually, the priest? I…” Sam took a deep breath. “I told you a little about living here—I used to come here a lot, when I was younger. I talked to him about…” Sam shook his head. “About everything. The truth is, he knew I was coming today, he knew I wanted him to meet you. And, ah…it wasn’t an accident.”

Sam’s hands were shaking, and that made it even harder for Rafe to breathe.

“I mean, the point is—well, it’s…it stands, if you want it. I mean, what he—what we said. Just now. If— _IF_ —it’s what you want.” A short laugh, strangled by nerves. “If not, then, ah, yeah we got directions to the hotel.”

Rafe’s eyes were wide, his lips pressed tight together, his heart screaming in his chest, and he tried so hard to find words, but nothing came.

Finally Sam’s nervous, shaky smile vanished, and he wet his lips, eyes darting left and right before he leaned a little closer, his voice soft.

“Hey, I—” He frowned. “Shit, this seemed… It seemed good, in my head. But baby, if— Just—Ah, hell, Rafe, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, just…say something? Anything?”

Rafe blinked again, his voice was barely a whisper and Sam leaned close to hear him.

“We just got married?”

Sam did his best to swallow the lump in his throat. “Ah, that’s…up to you, sweetheart.”

“Married?”

“If you…if you want it, then…yeah.”

Rafe closed his eyes, pressed his face against Sam’s chest, and when Sam’s arms came around him, held him so tight, he thought he might burst.

He felt Sam’s voice, a low rumble in his chest, but clear enough—“Is that…I mean, what does that mean? Something? Or, I mean, take your time—Shit, I don’t know what made me think this was a cute way to do th—”

Rafe cut him off by tugging him down, kissing him carefully, almost as if he were afraid of doing something to destroy this new union right out of the gate.

“Rafe…” Sam’s hands framed Rafe’s face, and there was such overwhelming hope in his eyes.

Rafe took a deep breath to steady himself. “We’re married.”

Sam sported the biggest smile Rafe had ever seen, and when he leaned down to kiss Rafe again, Rafe felt a ring slip gently onto his finger.

Rafe looked down, saw the other ring in Sam’s hand, and held his breath as he slid it on Sam’s finger. And for a moment, he just stared, and wondered, and tried to remember to breathe. 

“I love you,” Sam said, drawing Rafe’s eyes back to his. “I’ll always love you.”

And words failed Rafe, as they so often did, so he responded the best way he knew how, and when he kissed Sam again, kissed his husband, Rafe felt a soft but persistent ache bloom in his chest—he knew what it was, knew it shouldn’t hurt, but then again Rafe had never really embraced the idea of love, not until Sam. And he had fallen for Sam so deeply, so completely, that sometimes it scared him, and sometimes it hurt.

But then Sam’s arms were around him, pulling him close, and the ache subsided, was replaced by an overwhelming feeling of rightness, and Rafe let himself float there, untethered, unafraid—Sam was his lighthouse, and for once he felt safe in the waves because he knew Sam would always show him the way back.


End file.
